


The Only Thing

by non_tiembo_mala



Series: Tumblr Drabbles, Ficlets, and Brother Moments ♥ [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag: S12E02, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, Wincest - Freeform, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8340202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/pseuds/non_tiembo_mala
Summary: Sam gets mind-fucked and tortured by a British bitch who somehow manages to walk away from it all in one piece. But he also gets back the brother he thought was dead, and Dean will always be enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my self-indulgent and completely necessary headcanon for what happened after the fact. I glue the pieces of my broken heart back together with words.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Dean finishes his beer with the fingers of his other hand still sliding gently over the creased and worn, small collection of photographs in his lap. He hasn’t heard a door close since he cracked the cap of his third cold one, so whether or not Mary is sleeping, he figures he’s waited long enough.

Placing the empty on the kitchen floor with the rest of them, he ignores the way his knee cracks as he stands, the stack of pictures safe in hand, and makes his way into the hallway and to Sam’s door. 

If Sam’s awake, he’ll have heard Dean’s footfalls from inside, even with Dean moving as quietly as he could, because that’s how they are, how in-tune. In which case, if he wants Dean to go away, he’ll say so. If he’s asleep and the door’s unlocked, that’s all the invitation Dean needs. If it’s locked, well…  
  
But it turns out his brother is still up.

“Come in, Dean.” It’s soft and muffled through the door. Dean closes his eyes at the sound of Sam’s voice and leans his forehead against the wood, grateful for the easy in before he turns the handle and lets himself in.

He locks the door behind him.

Sam is still dressed in his jeans and his button-down, lying back on his bed and looking up at the ceiling fan like it holds the answers to all his questions, if only he looks at it long enough.  
  
Dean takes the moment to look over his little brother, the twitch in his jaw and the way his stubbled throat moves as he swallows. Cas may have patched him up, fixed the hurts on his feet and the gashes in his beautiful skin, but Dean doesn’t need Sam to say anything to know that was not the worst of what went down.

Dean reverently places the old photographs on Sam’s desk and toes off his boots. He sheds his top layer and drapes it over the back of Sam’s chair and then stands at the foot of Sam’s bed. 

His brother’s legs are open, one stretched out long in front of him, bent just enough his toes stay on the bed, and the other knee is up. Sam is biting his lower lip now and his eye lashes are fluttering as blinks, his eyes glistening. 

Dean’s heart stutters in his chest, choked a little for the way he loves his little brother, and he lets out a long, steady breath.

“Heya, Sammy…” Dean whispers, calm and easy as he can manage, then gets onto his hands and knees on the bed to crawl into the space Sam has made for him, where Sam is begging him in even if words are more than he can handle right now.

Dean has barely settled, blanketing Sam with his body, when his brother finally breaks and he finally stops looking at that fan to shut his eyes and burrow his face in Dean’s shoulder. Dean leaves just enough space between their chests that Sam can tuck his arms in there and cling to Dean’s t-shirt as he starts to shake apart, the sobs coming in hard and stealing his breath, making his body shudder.

Sam doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just holds on to his brother and hides beneath the shield he makes for him, in the safest place he knows, while Dean strokes his hair and mumbles soft words of encouragement against the shell of his ear. When the worst of it is passed, Dean’s shirt is soaked through and Sam’s tears make the skin of his shoulder cool and wet. Sam is still sniffling –  there’s probably snot all over Dean’s shirt, too, not that he gives a damn – and his body starts to get softer as the tension bleeds out of it.

Dean turns his face a little to kiss at Sam’s temple.

“It’s over, baby. I got you. I got you…”

Dean is wrecked by how hard Sam broke this time; he didn’t even cry like this when Dean got him out of the cage, but Dean knows why this is different. Then, Sam knew Dean was coming for him. He told him afterwards that he knew Dean was coming, he just had to hold on long enough. But this time… This time, Sam thought he was alone.

Dean shuts his eyes hard to keep back the flood that’s banging menacingly on his well built dam doors. Sam really doesn’t need him to fall apart right now. Sam needing him is what gives him the strength to do anything.

Dean realizes that Sam’s passed out when his baby brother lets out a long sigh underneath him and his limp fingers uncurl slightly from where they had been white-knuckle stretching the front of his shirt. He wonders if it’s the first time Sam has been able to properly sleep since the Darkness vanished…  
  
Dean gingerly and carefully lifts himself off of his brother’s sleep-slack body and starts to get him ready for bed. He undoes Sam’s belt, the button and zipper on his jeans and slides them down his legs, leaving his boxers on. He lovingly undoes the buttons of his long-sleeve shirt and peels him out of it; Sam snuffles in his sleep as Dean poses him, curling onto his side as Dean rolls him to get his arms out, leaving him in his white undershirt. It’s so painfully reminiscent of when he was still small, just the pain in the ass kid brother that Dean give shit to whenever he could but doted on and cared for with every breath nonetheless, in moments mostly unseen, moments like the one they’re in right now, and Dean’s breath shakes in his chest as he lets Sam settle and puts his shirt next to his on the chair.

Dean takes in Sam’s features, relieved that they’re finally relaxed in sleep, even though his skin his blotchy and his eyes are swollen from the crying. He sheds his own jeans and hesitates at the foot of Sam’s bed. With Mary in the bunker, they should really probably sleep in their own rooms; Dean is taking a risk even considering staying. What if she comes knocking on his door to find it empty? To find Dean here?  
  
But he can’t bring himself to care. He and Sam have fought long and hard to get where they are, to just _be_ with each other, the way they need to be, and Sam isn’t the only one who needs the comfort of his brother’s closeness tonight.

Dean tugs the blanket down and out from under Sam, who only whines at the displacement a moment before stilling again, and Dean crawls right into bed behind his brother. He pulls the blanket back up and over them both, tucking himself against his brother’s backside from head to toe, his lips a hair’s breadth from the nape of Sam’s neck and his arms wrapped around Sam’s waist. Sam shimmies in his sleep as they settle together into their usual arrangement and Dean sighs against his brother’s skin as he relaxes into place. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow will be better. They’re together again, and that’s all that matters.

“I got you, Sammy…” Dean whispers into the dark one last time before he drifts off, for Sam and for himself, reassured that his greatest treasure right back where he should be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ❤


End file.
